


Mixing Glass

by achillese



Category: American Horror Story, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack Pairing, Crossover, Explicit Language, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-17
Updated: 2011-11-17
Packaged: 2017-10-26 04:53:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/278909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/achillese/pseuds/achillese
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Curious about Adam's home life, Tate decides he wants to get to know his new friend a little better. When Adam shuts him out, Tate tries following him home. Key word: tries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mixing Glass

**Author's Note:**

> More Tate/Adam.
> 
> Part 2 of 5 of the SuperHorror Cocktail series.

It turned out that Tate was Adam’s only friend in town, so the two of them ended up spending a lot more time together than Tate originally thought. At first he’d been wary of the closeness, of the hour or so they’d spend at the beach or the local mall every day, because let’s face it: Adam was pretty friggin’ weird. He was jumpy and jittery and had nervous tics in his face like you wouldn’t believe. Tate started to wonder if maybe he’d been through some sort of horrific event – a house fire, a riot, an abusive family, _something_ – but he refrained from asking, figuring that if he sprung the question too soon, Adam would either shut him out or run. And though yeah, he was weird, he was growing on Tate. It wasn’t like Tate was a popular kid, after all. He didn’t have very many people to turn to, so it seemed that mutual weirdness acted like a magnet and forced the two of them together, whether they liked it or not.

Going to public places like the mall with this guy was...interesting. Interesting in that he acted as both a repellant and a kind of aphrodisiac; people both strayed away from and were intrigued by Tate’s new friend. Girls especially. Apparently the whole ‘mysterious, moody, and creepy’ thing was attractive in a guy. Who knew?

But Adam never let any of that get to his head. In fact, he seemed kind of annoyed by it, favoring clinging to Tate over any of the strangers who tried and failed to talk to him. It was nice in a way, having someone that dedicated to being your friend that he’d pick you over anyone else, even the hot college girls (even though the two of them had only been hanging out for about two weeks at this point).

* * *

Tate didn’t think it was odd at first, but he began to notice that they never hung out at Adam’s house. Once they’d moved from the threshold of ‘odd acquaintances’ to ‘actual friends,’ they began chilling at Tate’s house all the time, but not once had Adam ever invited him over. In fact, Adam never mentioned his home at all.

They were in Tate’s room one day, sitting on his bedroom floor while thumbing through some of his records and albums, when Tate finally decided to ask:

“Family problems?”

Adam looked up, a Sex Pistols record sandwiched delicately between his long fingers. “Huh?”

“Family problems?” Tate repeated as he leaned again his dresser. “At home, I mean.” He shrugged. “I’m just wondering why you never mention your parents or your home or anything. Is it that bad?”

Adam chuckled wryly. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

He doesn’t offer anything else, but he’s definitely piqued Tate’s interest. He sat up, leaning towards Adam, but tried not to look hostile or overly eager about it. “You can tell me, y’know. I’m not gonna, like, tell anybody. I have no one to tell.”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Adam said sincerely, carefully placing the album back in the box that was on the floor between them. “Trust me. We’re better off not talking about it at all.”

But of course, that only got Tate interested in it even more. Pretty soon he started a stalking plan of action on his own. Whenever Adam left his house, Tate would watch him from his bedroom window and wait until he rounded the street corner before scrambling to the garage and hopping on his bike to start following him home.

The problem was that Adam was like a friggin’ ghost, disappearing without a trace before Tate could get close enough to the corner to round up and sneak behind him. Tate could’ve sworn he saw the back of his beige jacket retreating into a narrow street one day but he couldn’t be too sure and he wasn’t in the mood to follow the kid into dangerous territory.

Tate couldn’t figure out if Adam did this on purpose, if Adam led him around the neighborhood and into all the little nooks and crannies that Tate remembered exploring as a child. He was pretty sure Adam knew he was following him, and on the second week of this almost-daily ritual, it was confirmed.

Tate was coasting on his bike down Marlow Boulevard, following Adam with the autumn wind whipping against his face and causing his eyes to sting from the briskness of it all. The other boy was strutting – yes, that’s right, strutting – down the street with his hands shoved into his jacket pockets, whistling to some tune Tate didn’t recognize in the slightest. When they reached the bottom of the street, Adam turned on his heel and looked directly at Tate, grinning.

“About time you caught up,” Adam commented with a smirk.

Tate wobbled in surprise and nearly tipped over on his bike. “You knew?”

“Man, I’m not an idiot. Your bike is loud. It’s like trying to sneak up on someone with firecrackers, you numbskull.”

Tate flushed but bit back what would’ve been a pretty nasty response. Friend or no, Adam could be a real pain in the ass to be around. “What do you mean, about time I caught up?”

Adam grinned and took his hands out of his pockets to flip his hood up, casting his eyes in shadows before beckoning to Tate. “Come on, man, there’s something cool I gotta show you. Been waiting for the right moment for days now.”

“You’ve been leading me somewhere?” Tate asked as he hopped off his bike and dragged it alongside him, falling into step with Adam’s long strides as they continued down the street.

Adam snorted. “Something like that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Either you were or you weren’t.”

“It means that whether or not I decided to lead you here, today and now, you would’ve found your way here eventually.”

Tate didn’t even want to ask.


End file.
